


Android 20

by AgentMalkere



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragon Ball Z - Freeform, F/M, Gen, android Krillin, learning how to be human again, rather dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMalkere/pseuds/AgentMalkere
Summary: 18 joined her brother and peered through the pod’s window with mild curiosity.  The face of the being on the other side of the glass looked small but masculine.“What do you think?”  18 leaned back and crossed her arms.  “Another ‘failure’ like us?”“No doubt.”  17 depressed the pod’s activation button.  “Let’s pop him open and find out.”(In just one universe, Dr. Gero realized that the best way to truly hurt Son Goku… was by using his friends, so he took the time to make one additional android.)





	1. Chapter 1

18 watched with muted satisfaction as Gero’s blood pooled across the floor.  The old man may have managed to turn himself into a cyborg, but he was still no match for _them_.  17 gave Gero’s body one last kick and then wandered over to check out the containment pod that definitely hadn’t been there last time the twins had been awake.  “20” was written across the front of the pod.  18 joined her brother and peered through the pod’s window with mild curiosity.  The face of the being on the other side of the glass looked small but masculine.

“What do you think?”  18 leaned back and crossed her arms.  “Another ‘failure’ like us?”

“No doubt.”  17 depressed the pod’s activation button.  “Let’s pop him open and find out.”

“Why bother?”

17 shrugged.

“Could be fun.”

18 rolled her eyes and went to poke at some of the blueprints for Android 20 that were still lying on Gero’s desk.  She flipped through them idly.  Android 20 was a biomechanically enhanced cyborg like them.  Gero had made some notes about starting with an already powerful human body but one that had a less forceful personality.  18 snorted.  That comment was obviously referring to her and 17.  20 had enhanced speed, precision, and dexterity, and an unlimited power source that was capped slightly lower than 18’s.  Apparently Gero had decided not to give 20 18’s battle analysis programming or extreme learning curve, and he didn’t seem to be quite as durable as 17 and 18 either.  Probably part of Gero’s plan to make 20 easier to control.  Looked like 20 had the potential to be entertaining after all.

18 dropped the blueprints and turned back to the opening pod.  20 was smaller than she was expecting him to be – well under five feet – but he definitely had the build of a martial artist.  Maybe Gero had stolen one of the contestants from the Tenkaichi Budokai.  20’s dark hair was short and unusually unkempt for one of Gero’s creations.  The same golden hoop earrings hung from his ears as 17 and 18’s, and he had been dressed in a dark blue gi with the Red Ribbon logo emblazoned across the heart and back.

20 blinked up at 17 and 18, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.  18 wondered how long it had been since he had last been awake.

“So,” 17 leaned down to peer more closely at 20’s face, “why did Gero’s decide that _you_ were a failure?”

“I couldn’t be convinced to kill people,” 20 stated.  He looked back and forth between the two of them.  “Where is Dr. Gero?”

“Over there,” 17 jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “busy being dead.”

20’s eyes darkened.

“ _Good_.”

18 lifted her eyebrows sardonically,

“I thought you didn’t want to kill people.”

“Gero wasn’t a person.”

18 shrugged.  True enough.

“I’m 17, and this is my sister, 18.”  Apparently 17 had decided that 20 was interesting enough for introductions.  

“I’m Android 20.”

“I don’t suppose a pacifist like yourself would be interested in a game of Kill Son Goku?  I hate to follow the old man’s programming, but machines like us need a purpose.”

The oddest expression flickered across 20’s face.  Later, the best way 18 could think of to describe it was half-forgotten pain – almost grief.

“I don’t know about killing,” 20 finally decided, “but I definitely wouldn’t mind hitting him a few times.”

“Why not kill him?” asked 18, raising an eyebrow.

“If you kill him, then that’s it – you can’t do it again later.  And it’s exactly what that bastard programmed us to do.  Why start following Gero’s orders now?  Besides, I think Son Goku would be… fun to fight.”  20 frowned to himself, and there was that odd look again.

“Huh.”  17 looked considering.  “Valid point.  Definitely something to think about while we search.”

“Search?” asked 18, already unimpressed with this plan. 

“Well, yeah.  I don’t know where he lives – do you?”

“Of course no-”

“Goku lives on Mt. Paozu.”

17 and 18 both stopped mid-argument and turned to look at 20.  For a moment his voice had sounded brighter, more alive.

“How do you know that?” asked 18.  “Did Gero tell you?”  She certainly hadn’t noticed any additional databanks on 20’s blueprints.

“I… don’t know.”  20’s expression was baffled.

“Well, it’s as good a place to start as any,” 17 announced, brushing aside the strange moment.  “Let’s go pay Son Goku a visit.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Gero had taught 17 and 18 over and over again that nothing belonged to them.  _Nothing_.  Not their bodies, not their names, not their memories.  He even did his best to control their thoughts.  They had nothing because they _were_ nothing – merely tools to be used and discarded.  Every time 18 woke up from stasis there was a tiny part of her, curled up small and hidden deep, that was afraid that this time she would wake up alone.  That this time Gero would have finally decided that her brother was a problem without a solution and would simply have disposed of him like all the rest of the other failures that had come before them.

Now Gero was dead, and 18 looked at the world around her and found that she wanted to hold onto things.  To own things.  To have things that belonged to her again.

She had 17, because he was her brother, and now that Gero was gone there was no one who could throw him away like so much trash. 

They now had a car, because 17 had insisted and 20 had agreed that cars were neat – especially ones that you could capsulize.  The car was a shiny, lime green convertible that had already lead three police vehicles on merry chases.  17 was currently driving, 18 had claimed the passenger seat, and 20 seemed to be enjoying himself perched on top of the rear seats behind them.  It wasn’t as if any of them needed to worry about seatbelts.

18 also had a small quartz pebble that she had tucked away into her pocket while the others weren’t looking.  Maybe it was irrational or silly, but machines didn’t _want_ and 18 had looked at how that pebble had glinted in the sun and _wanted it_.  It felt like a tiny piece of proof.  _I’m still human.  He didn’t take everything._

And then, of course, there was 20.  They had 20 as well.

18 glanced over her shoulder at him again.  The wind rushing over the car was making his hair look even more messy than normal.  He was the one who had suggested that they stop to try eating something.  18 couldn’t remember eating since she had first woken up in Dr. Gero’s lab.  He’d probably kept them on some sort of intravenous supplement while they were in stasis.  She’d only remembered what food tasted like in an abstract sort of way – like she’d read about it once but never experienced it.  They’d found out four things from their little food detour:

1) Moo shu pork was delicious.

2) They were definitely going to be stopping to try other foods on the way to Mt. Paozu.

3) Restaurants didn’t try to make you pay until you were done eating.

4) They were going to have to steal someone’s wallet or something, because not paying for things seemed to make 20 anxious.

18 was starting to suspect that Gero had actually deemed 20 a failure more because his memories of being human weren’t as fully repressed as they should have been than because of his reluctance to kill.

20 leaned forward between 18 and 17 and began fiddling with the radio.  They’d been listening to different stations for half an hour at a time.  So far nobody had liked the news, 17 had liked the obnoxious pop station, 18 and 20 had liked the classical station they had found, and everyone could agree that rock was all right.  Now the radio began to scream like a tortured cat.

“No.  Absolutely not.”  18 instantly reached for the radio controls.  “I am _not_ listening to that for half an hour.”

“I dunno,” 17 grinned in that special way that meant that he was being difficult on purpose.  “I kind of like it.”

18 glared at him and then twisted to look at 20,

“Back me up on this, 20.” 

“I can’t even tell if they’re playing instruments or just breaking things,” 20 nodded.

“I like breaking things,” 17 shrugged, still smirking like the menace he was.

20 responded by bopping him on the head.  Gero hadn’t had him long enough to program away such casual gestures as much as possible, or perhaps the old man simply hadn’t bothered this time.  Until 20 had laid a casual hand on her arm earlier that day, it wasn’t even something that 18 had been aware that she missed. 

“You’ve been out voted,” 18 told her brother flatly and changed the radio station.

17 rolled his eyes but didn’t put up any more protest.

18 and 17 hadn’t discussed it – not out loud – but they were keeping 20.  They had found him, and they liked him, so he was theirs.  18 wasn’t really sure how friendship worked anymore – another piece of knowledge Gero hadn’t felt that his creations needed – but she thought that this was something like that.  Machines didn’t have friends, but 17 and 18 did.  He was short and a little odd (“Kind,” a faint voice supplied in the back of her head that sounded almost like 18 but not), but that didn’t matter.  It was one more small brush with humanity.  One more defiance of Dr. Gero’s programming.

 

Two hours later 20 finally leaned forward and asked the question that had obviously been on his mind for a while now,

“So why did Gero wake you two up again anyway?”

They were halfway up a mountain road that weaved between trees like a river.  They’d acquired a map the last time that they had stopped and discovered that 17’s navigational skills had only been taking them vaguely in the right direction.  18 probably would have been more annoyed if the gas station they’d gotten the map (and someone’s wallet full of zenni) from hadn’t been selling ice cream mochi. 

“Something about having a run-in with Son Goku and his friends and Android 19 getting destroyed.”  17 wrinkled his nose.  “19 must have been a really inferior model.  Looked like the old man had gone back to the energy absorption design.  Stupid move.  Goku’s friends were chasing him.  He wanted us to kill them.”

“Friends?”  20 had that weird subconscious sad-grief look on his face again.

“Gee, how bad is your programming?” asked 17.  “You know, that gang of weak idiots who cling to Son Goku’s coat tails.  Piccolo, Tienshinhan, Yamcha, Chaozu, Vegeta, and-” 17 hesitated.  Frowned.  “There are only five.  Why did I think there were six?”

“Maybe you’re malfunctioning,” 18 suggested blithely, but now that she thought about it, she could have sworn that Goku had six hangers-on as well.

20 frowned,

“I know faces and power levels and attacks, but I don’t have any names to go with them.”

Uncomfortable silence descended on the car full of unspoken questions that only a dead mad scientist could answer.  18 hated moments like this – further reminders of just how much Gero had played with their brains.  She knew that 17 despised them just as much.  The silence stretched out for almost a minute before 17 stabbed at one of the buttons on the radio panel.  Something featuring harmonica and banjo started twanging at them.

“Damn it, 17!” 18 snapped, relieved to have a distraction from her own thoughts – no matter how annoying that distraction was.

“No banjos!” agreed 20 quickly.  18 could hear the hint of equal relief in his voice.

“I’m the driver, and the driver wants banjos.”

The argument over the radio carried them all the way to the base of the mountain and the speed trap waiting there.  No one brought up Son Goku’s uncertain number of friends again.


	3. Chapter 3

It turned out that being able to find a place on a map and actually being able to use that map to get to the place you wanted to go were two very different skillsets.  18, 17, and 20 had all been programmed with superior aerial navigation.  Gero had never bothered with anything else, because it never occurred to him that his creations would ever choose to _not_ fly somewhere.  18 was getting the hang of the new navigation style quite quickly, but now she was driving, and 17 had decided that highways were _boring_ and not lined with enough places to acquire food.  As a result, they were snaking through backcountry roads and blink-and-you-missed-them towns.  It wasn’t like they were in a hurry, even if the meandering route was driving 18’s programming a little crazy.  Son Goku wasn’t going anywhere.  There was no need to rush.  

20 was lying across the backseats now, feet kicked up on the passenger side door, watching the stars overhead.

18 slowed the car as they came up on a fork in the road.

“Left,” 17 instructed without even glancing at the map he was supposed to be using.  18 was almost positive that they should actually be turning _right_ , but she turned left anyway.  She was… enjoying driving.  It was slow and inefficient but… fun?  Was that the right word?  Not fun like the idea of killing Son Goku.  It was a gentler feeling.  Contentment?  If nothing else, the old man would have had a fit that they had been out of stasis for seventy-two hours now and Son Goku still wasn’t dead.  Leaving Son Goku alive purely out of spite as starting to sound like an increasingly appealing idea.  Also, 20 would probably be put out if they killed anyone.  18 didn’t like the idea of 20 being upset.

“Oh!”  17 perked up as he spotted light pooling across the road up ahead.  “Finally, a fuel station.  Pull over.”

18 rolled her eyes.

“We stopped for fuel four hours and sixteen minutes ago.  We don’t need more.”

“Yeah, but I ran out of prawn crackers an hour and fifty-eight minutes more.  I want more.”

“Glutton.  That was your second bag.”

17 shrugged,

“It’s not like my enhancements don’t burn through the calories instantly.  Besides, humanity could be worth sparring just for the prawn crackers.”

“I’m still not stopping.”

“…They might have ice cream mochi.”

18 pulled into the fuel station and pointedly ignored her twin’s unbearably smug expression.  She twisted in her seat to ask 20 a question and stopped.  20’s eyes were closed, his mouth was hanging open slightly, and his breathing was deep and even.

“Is he _sleeping_?” asked 17 in disbelief as he peered into the backseat as well.

“Looks like it.”  18 wasn’t even sure if she or 17 _could_ sleep.  They’d never been out of stasis long enough to find out.  Had Gero even bothered to _finish_ 20’s generalized programming?  For some reason, that thought made her feel ever so slightly uneasy, and she pushed it away without examining it further.

“His programming is so _weird_ ,” 17 muttered.  18 nodded.  17 reached over and poked 20’s shoulder.  20’s hand instantly whipped up and caught 17’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

“Can I help you?” asked 20, his eyes bright and alert like he hadn’t been sleeping at all.

“You were sleeping,” 17 stated, because as far as he was concerned that was a good enough reason to poke anybody.

“Yeah, I know,” 20 looked slightly confused.  “I decided to give star and cloud watching a break for a while.”

“We’re at a fuel station,” 18 interrupted before that strange, uneasy feeling in the back of her mind could start to grow again.  “You want anything?”

“Fuel station?”  20 sat up and let go of 17’s wrist.  “But… there’s nobody here.”

18 glanced around.  It was true that no one else was outside the fuel station, but that didn’t mean much.

“They’re probably just inside paying,” 17 brushed off the comment.

“No,” 20 shook his head.  “I mean, I can’t sense _any_ chi.  At all.  Not even inside.”

“You’re programmed to sense energy?” asked 18.

“No, I can just do it.  Can’t you?”

“No.”

“Huh.  Whatever.  Maybe everyone just went home for the night.”  17 hopped out of the passenger seat and headed for the fuel station’s convenience store.  “I’m going to see if they have prawn crackers.”

20 was frowning at the purple truck sitting by one of the fuel pumps across the parking lot from them.  Its driver’s side door was hanging open.  18 caught him by the back of his gi and hauled him bodily but carefully out of the car.

“Come on, let’s see what food they have.”

20 followed her, casting one last worried glance over his shoulder at the seemingly abandoned truck.

The inside of the convenience store was just as devoid of life as the parking lot had been.  18 shrugged this off without concern and wandered over to check out the small frozen section.  No ice cream mochi.  Damn.

“Guys.”  20’s voice echoed oddly in the empty store.  There was a note of… something in 20’s tone that 18 didn’t like, that poked at emotions Gero had tried to bury deep under layers of programming.  It was worse than her earlier nebulous unease.  This made her stomach clench.  20 had his back to her, something clutched in his hands.  His head was bent forward, and from this angle, 18 could see the small scars along the back of his neck picked out by the florescent overhead lights.  As she stepped towards him, her foot bumped something, and she glanced down.  A shoe was lying on the ground, the laces still done up and a white sock trailing from its top.  She looked up again.  Now she could see that the thing 20 was clutching was a t-shirt adorned with the fuel station’s logo and a name tag.  Behind him, 17 was holding a bag of prawn crackers and kicking at another pile of clothes with a look of mild curiosity.

“Huh.  I wonder where they went.”  17, apparently growing bored with the mystery of the abandoned clothes, headed for the cash register.

“We need to get out of here.”  20 let go of the shirt, and it fluttered to the ground.  His voice sounded hoarse.

“Don’t you want me to pay for these?” asked 17, waving the crackers.

“Forget it,” 20 shook his head.  “Let’s just go.”

17 and 18 exchanged a glance and a shrug.  The three of them were the strongest beings on the planet.  There was nothing out there that could harm them, and therefore nothing for 20 to be worrying about but still.  Neither of them liked how jumpy 20 looked.  

“Okay.”  17 headed for the doors with 20 and 18 close on his heels.

As soon as they were in the car, 18 pushed the acceleration pedal all the way to the floor and roared down the road as fast as the little convertible could manage, leaving the empty fuel station in their dust.  It took an hour and a half and almost eighty miles before 20’s fists finally unclenched and his face began to relax.


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time since leaving Gero’s lab, gray clouds were beginning to pile up and hang low in the sky.  18 stared up at the clouds.  She had joined 20, perching on the backseats next to him when 17 had whined his way back into the driver’s seat two hours earlier.  The wind riffled through her hair.  The air was soft and cool against her face with the promise of rain.  No wonder 20 seemed to be enjoying sitting back here so much.

18 glanced over at 20.  The lines of tension leftover from last night’s fuel station incident had finally smoothed away completely from around his eyes.  His chin was tilted up slightly, and a small, contented smile was pulling up the corners of his mouth.  18 looked away again.  Her cheeks felt ever so slightly warmer than usual.  It was probably just windburn – nothing important.  It didn’t occur to her that, with Gero’s modifications, windburn was likely something she would never experience.  She shifted through her memories to try and see if she could remember ever actually experiencing rain.  On the radio someone was playing a truly spectacular rift on the electric guitar.

Just as 18 was coming to the conclusion that she had no memories of what rain felt like against skin but one of a storm so violent that she had been able to hear the rain rattling against Gero’s thick metal doors, the entire car jerked to the right.  Only their superhuman reflexes kept 18 and 20 from being flung out onto the highway as the car skidded across three lanes of traffic and down an exit ramp.

“What the hell, 17?!” 20 yelped, clinging so hard to the side of the car that he was in danger of leaving a dent.  Behind them on the highway, tires screeched, horns blared, and drivers swore.

“We are going to the aquarium,” 17 announced cheerfully.

“What?!” demanded 18 and 20 in unison.

“There was a billboard back there for an aquarium, and they have a _petting tank_.  I want to pat a stingray.  It said something about being able to pat jellyfish, too.”

“I thought jellyfish were poisonous,” 20 put in hesitantly.  It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Yeah,” 17 grinned.  “It sounds like a challenge!”

“Huh.  Okay.  Sure, why not,” 20 nodded.

18 considered the prospect of fish.  Bright, colorful fish.  Something old and forgotten and buried beneath programming and trauma stirred and brightened at the idea.

“Okay,” she agreed as well.

“Good,” 17’s grin widened, “because you two didn’t actually have a choice.”

20 laughed, and 18 rolled her eyes at her brother’s antics, but she wasn’t actually annoyed.  With every mile farther that they drove in the lime green convertible, the pressing need to find Son Goku seemed to wane further and further.  It was a good game, a good excuse, but 18 was starting to wonder if she just might be happy if they never quite made it to Mt. Paozu.

 

The aquarium was a massive building with wide, dimly lit corridors.  Most of the bright light came from the floor to ceiling glass tanks embedded in the walls where schools of exotic fish darted around reconstructed segments of coral reef and rainforest tree roots.  17 dragged them past all these without pause, following the signs to the petting tank area.

Even their first visit to the restaurant with the moo shu pork hadn’t prepared 18 for this many people.  The petting tank room was large, brightly lit, and _packed_.  Excited, babbling young voices practically drowned out 18’s own thoughts, and she was tempted to clamp her hands over her ears.

17 elbowed his way to the front of the crowd without care for subtlety or politeness, rolled up his sleeves, and stuck his hands in the water of the shallow, sandy-bottomed tank to touch the first thing he could reach – a horseshoe crab.  His face brightened with almost childlike delight. 

20 peered at the side of the tank where tank a small ray about eight inches across was pressing its belly to the glass.

“It looks like it’s smiling.”  20 gently touched his fingers to the clear barrier.

“Be very gentle.”  A cheetah woman wearing an aquarium employee shirt was showing 17 how to touch one of the little rays.  “Just let your fingers skim over its back.  Any harder and you might hurt or stress the animal.”

18 rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hands into the cool saltwater as well.  She let her fingers trace over the back of a ray as it swam serenely past.  Rubbery sandpaper with sharp ridges of spine.  Next to her, 20 had his red wrist bracers tucked under one arm and was laughing at the texture of the starfish under his hand.  18 looked from her brother’s delighted expression – possibly the most relaxed and happy she had even seen him – to 20’s massive grin as he helped a freckled little girl to pat the starfish as well.  Then 18 reached out to touch the hard, smooth shell of a horseshoe crab.  This had definitely been a good idea.

The jellyfish were in a separate tank and turned out to be moon jellies and nonvenomous to humans – much to 17’s disappointment.  You didn’t so much pat them as hold your hand in the water and allow the jellyfish’s translucent white doom to bump softly into your fingers.  18 found the moon jellyfish peaceful and soothing despite the cacophony of children going on around them.

“We’re going to the jellyfish exhibit next,” announced 18 when they finally left the petting tank room.

17 blinked at her.

“But sharks.”  He pointed down a different hall.

“We have all day.  Sharks later – jellyfish now.”  18 caught 17 by the wrist and 20 by the hand and started towing them in the direction of the jellyfish exhibit.

“And then the coral reef fish,” 20 added.  His cheeks were tinted the slightest bit pink. 

“Coral reef fish and more prawn crackers,” 17 agreed.

“Haven’t you had enough of those?”

“You can never have enough prawn crackers.”

Hours swirled by in colorful splashes and sparkles of chaotic, breathtaking life.  There was a massive oval tank that you could walk down the center of like you were swimming with the fish themselves, and on the level below that sharks drifted by with graceful menace.  Jellyfish trailed tentacles like ribbon and lace streamers beneath ruffled skirts, and silver hatchet fish flashed along the bottom of a fake rainforest riverbed.

They had been at the aquarium for almost four hours when 18 caught sight of her reflection in the glass of a dark, underwater shipwreck display.  She hadn’t thought much about her appearance in a long time, because until now it hadn’t been _hers_.  The image in the glass was shadowy and a little fuzzy.  The low lighting caught her face oddly and made half her hair look shorter than it actually was.  In her earliest memories, 18’s hair was long, falling past her shoulder blades.  Then between one awakening from stasis and then next her hair had been clipped to above shoulder length to match 17’s.  18 considered her distorted reflection.  She looked… good with short hair.  Less like Gero’s doll in a box.  She wasn’t in a box anymore.  If she wanted to cut her hair so it didn’t match her brother’s, she could.  It was a surprisingly liberating thought.

20’s reflection joined hers in the darkened glass.  The strange cast of shadows made his face look solemn.  It didn’t suit him.  She looked away from the glass and down at 20.  He gave her a smile.  She gave him a small smile in return. 

“I’m getting a haircut,” 18 told him just so that she could hear the words out loud. 

20’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly,

“I don’t think that’s something you can do at the aquarium.”

18 snorted and then, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out and bumped 20 lightly in the shoulder with her fist like she had seen him do to 17.

“I meant after we leave the aquarium.”

“In that case,” said 17, leaning in and startling them both, “I want a hat.”

“A hat?” asked 20 skeptically.

“Yup.  A hat.  It saw a sign that says souvenirs, and I want a souvenir, and that souvenir is going to be a hat.”

17 could not be talked out of buying a hat, though thankfully 18 did manage to convince him to buy the baseball cap with the stylized shark rather than the stupidly grinning purple fish.  Somewhere in the melee of the gift shop, 17 acquired another wallet since their current one was almost out of zenni.

 

18 stared at her reflection in the mirror as the hairdresser removed the drape from around her shoulders.  A ‘pixie cut,’ the hairdresser had called it.  18 didn’t think much of the name, but she did like how it looked on her. Short on the sides and back but still long enough on top that her hair draped elegantly down over the right side of her forehead.  She ran her hands through her hair, enjoying the sudden feel of air on her fingers so much sooner than expected.  Her head felt lighter.

“Huh.”  17 was peering around the corner at her.  Apparently he’d acquired a new bag of prawn crackers while he’d been waiting.  “Now you and 20 match.”

“We do _not_ ,” 18 scowled, crossing her arms.

“Yeah,” agreed 20, leaning around 17, “hers is way longer and doesn’t stick up in the front.  You look really nice, 18.”

“Thank you, 20.  And for that comment, 17, I’m driving next.”

“Awww,” 17 pouted, but she ignored him.

18 glanced at her image in the mirror one more time before turning to go.  The different hairstyle made her look a touch older, and for some reason, her eyes seemed a little brighter.  There was a light to them that she didn’t remember seeing before.

She headed for the door.

 

Around dawn the next morning 18 finally relented and let 17 have the steering wheel back.  They were getting steadily closer to Mt. Paozu.  Even on the meandering backroads 17 had taken them back onto, they should be there by tomorrow.  18 had stopped trying to direct 17 using their map.  She wasn’t _reluctant_ to find Son Goku but- but-

Well, whatever the reason, she was content to just let 17 take them in more or less the right direction.

20 was flipping through radio stations, pausing on one for barely a few seconds before switching to the next.  17 finally caught 20’s wrist before he could press the button again.

“Yeah, no.  That is both annoying _and_ distracting.”

“You’re hardly one to talk,” 20 shot back good-naturedly.  17 made a ‘this is true’ face.  “Besides,” 20 commented off-handedly, “I’m supposed to be distracting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked 18, twisting to look at him from the passenger seat.

“Hm?  Oh, it was just something Gero said once,” 20 shrugged.

For some reason, that comment left a bad taste in 18’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 and I had an argument about him having that hat. I lost. 
> 
> **Update 8/27/17: I will not have access to a computer from Aug. 28th to Sept. 23rd, so it's going to be at least late September before I will be able to post Chapter 5. Don't worry, though - Chapter 5 is coming.**

**Author's Note:**

> This idea mauled me in the middle of the night and wouldn't leave me alone until I got up and wrote it down.


End file.
